


in a day we'll say it again

by Anzie (anzie)



Series: Immortals [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Emotional, Emotional Sex, Everyone Needs A Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Viktor Nikiforov, Love across the years, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Time warp, Top Yuuri, Tragedy, bottom viktor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 16:50:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13194405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anzie/pseuds/Anzie
Summary: Viktor and Yuuri are soulmates. Viktor is immortal, but Yuuri is not. He spends his life seeking out Yuuri on repeat. Sometimes he’s too late. Sometimes, he doesn’t find Yuuri at all.It’s 1973. This time, Yuuri finds him.





	in a day we'll say it again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sachiro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sachiro/gifts).



> I created an entire angsty soulmates and soft tearful Viktor with a side of domesticity plotline for you, but because of time constraints (and also ‘small present’), that will have to come a little later. For now, this is a teensy short in the same universe to hopefully bless your New Year.  
> Happy Christmas and Happy New Year, friend.  
> <3  
> Anzie  
> PS: I have,,, taken many liberties with history in this fic. Please forgive orz  
> PPS: Their names aren’t different because that would be… not YOI-centric and also very confusing :joy: 
> 
> I also apologize in advance omg
> 
> ALSO. You can thank, in order:  
> \- Nikki for listening to me SCREAMING ABOUT THIS for 2 days she's the baest
> 
> \- Ing for listening but also specifically for help with writing smut bc hahahahhaha  
> ahhaa  
> ha  
> i'm an innocent don't @ me

On the verge of the new year, the atmosphere in the bar is hopeful with energy buzzing out of anticipation for something Yuuri can only describe as _bright_. A brighter future, a friendlier space, a safer New York City for their underground family. Behind them, the streets are as busy as the building, rainbow flags and sparklers waving throughout Greenwich. Yuuri slows at the door, taking in the sudden boldness of their _kind_ , a smile spreading across his face at the sight.

Phichit, gripping his hand tightly, leads him through the heavy crowd of celebrating queens. “Merry Christmas, gorgeous!” someone yells in Yuuri’s ear, and he wrinkles his nose but flashes the mop of curly blue hair a wide smile.

“You too!” Chris laughingly winks at him before he’s lost in the crowd.

“Come on,” Phichit calls back, tugging Yuuri a little off balance, his usually high voice pitched low – sultry, sexy, like the rest of him. “I can get us free drinks at the bar! Just look sexy!”

Laughing nervously, Yuuri follows his friend to the counter, where Phichit immediately starts flirting with a nearby man, who after a moment beckons the bartender with a wink. The man’s eyes turn to rake over Yuuri briefly before focusing his attention entirely on his friend. _Let’s get laid!_ Phichit cheered thirty minutes ago as he smeared kohl around his eyes, and Yuuri, with a glance at his friend, teasingly thinks that he won’t have to wait very long.

Smiling to himself and sipping from the offered drink, Yuuri turns to look around the blur of colors in the room, blending together like a watercolor. Phichit has, with his impeccable fashion sense, dressed them both to the nines – and Yuuri imagines, for a moment, the brilliance of his own outfit in an image of this crowd – and thought about Phichit and the rhinestones glued painstakingly to his temple. He’ll be the main point of concentration, the figure to draw the eye with his heavy contrasts and sparkly outfit. Next to him, Yuuri will be a brown smudge with a tiny rainbow flag on his cheek.

Phichit looks over at him and blows him a kiss. Yuuri raises his drink in response before downing it.

Despite the guy’s interest, Phichit slips back towards Yuuri and hands him a second glass with a purred, “Told you so. All you gotta do is look like us.” Self-consciously, Yuuri tugs on his top, trying to cover the strip of bare skin around his midsection. As expected, Phichit bats his hands away. “Stop that,” he says in Yuuri’s ear. “You’re going to ruin the look.”

“I don’t like wearing this sort of thing,” Yuuri murmurs, but he releases the edge of the slightly crumpled top. Phichit smoothed both hands over Yuuri’s shirt with a slight scowl before rolling his eyes and planting a smacking kiss on his cheek.

“Come on, let’s see if we can find ourselves a pair of lookers,” Phichit says, standing on his tippytoes to peer around the busy bar. Downing his next drink too fast, Yuuri privately wishes he had another. “Oh—You have an admirer.”

Phichit doesn’t sound surprised as much as he does _pleased_ , smug in a way that suits him – the way most things do, Yuuri admits, as he follows his friend’s gaze to a dark-haired beauty in the corner. The man smirks and raises his glass in a mock-toast to him before throwing it back. Yuuri snaps his gaze away, turning bright red. Out of the corner of his eye, the man starts walking towards them.

“I need another drink,” he says to Phichit, sliding around his protesting friend. He nods at the bartender with a nervous little twitch, and the bartender smiles understandingly before sliding a bottle of beer across the table at him.

“On the house,” the bartender calls. Yuuri nods his thanks, taking a heavy swig before swinging around—

“Ah!”

—right into someone, who stumbles back a step, looking entirely startled. Yuuri’s drink drips over his knuckles as he stares in horror at the beer stain on the other man’s dress shirt. The other man’s _very expensive_ dress shirt.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri says. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not a problem,” the other man says immediately. Yuuri takes a moment to thank the heavens that it’s not his so-called admirer; this one had long, pale hair, like— “I wasn’t looking where I was going, I was—” He stops, staring straight at Yuuri with a near-comical gobsmacked look on his face. “It’s _you_.”

Yuuri blinks, raising his eyes to the man’s face, fully intending to ask if they’ve met. But instead, the world does a little skip beneath him, as though he’s tripped over the little step leading into his shitty apartment yet again – but it feels _better_ , with fewer stubbed toes, like something has slid fully into place, one of those puzzle boxes that opened at the right touch.

“I didn’t think I’d find you,” the man’s lips said, but that can’t be right; Yuuri must be misreading lips. It’s too fucking noisy in here. When did it get this loud?

“Hi,” Yuuri says – yells, really.

“Hi,” the man yells back, and the stunned expression on his face cracks to reveal a beautiful, heart-shaped smile.

“Can I get you a drink?”

The man nods, eyes fixed on his face like a blind man who’s seen the sun for the first time. Flushing, Yuuri turns back to the bar and orders two things of whiskey. The man squeezes into the tiny space between the next person and Yuuri, his eyes the color of the sky in the late evening.

“It’s really you,” says the man, as though half in wonder, his breath skimming over Yuuri’s cheek. He feels himself smile at the undisguised wonder in the man’s voice.

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, tilting his head up to look at him. He looks familiar, _like_ —“Have we met?”

“Many times,” says the man. “But I’m Viktor.”

“Yuuri.”

“I know,” Viktor murmurs, and there are tears in his eyes and— _oh_ , that’s not usually good, is it?

“I’m not good with crying people,” he tells Viktor. “But, um, I could kiss you?”

Viktor laughs. “Not yet,” he says, lips curving up in a small smile. “I’m not sad, I’m just very happy. You’re… gorgeous.”

The words, combined with Viktor’s proximity, are starting to make Yuuri feel as though he’s taken more than a couple of drinks. “Yeah?” he says, trying not to sound like he’s fishing. The bartender, eyeing Viktor curiously, slides the whiskey over to them. Strangely, Yuuri feels a little… _proud_. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Phichit give him two thumbs up.

“Like you always are,” Viktor says, smiling.

“Thank you,” Yuuri says, and Viktor smiles like the sun, like those two words are his everything.

Clearing his throat, Yuuri throws his whiskey back before he can do something stupid – like wax poetic on the color of Viktor’s hair (starlight from his childhood memories) or sniff his neck (pine trees and the clear scent of freshly fallen snow). “I want to dance,” he says instead.

Viktor – sliding his drink back onto the table with a smile, his expression soft and delighted and wonderful – obligingly lets himself be swept up in Yuuri’s arms.

And they dance.

 

They move half a beat off from the dimly playing pop tune from the radio, too caught up in each other to bother with proper steps. The songs blend into each other, but they’ve got their own; Yuuri spins and dances through bodies, and Viktor keeps up, fingers twisting Yuuri into spontaneous turns and gliding over his hips before Yuuri dances away.

Yuuri moves and Viktor follows, a game of chase that Viktor easily falls into. There’s laughter between them and something more, a spark that Yuuri sees when he closes his eyes, one that gleams brighter when Yuuri smooths a hand over Viktor’s cheek, when their fingers tangle together and don’t let go. Something lurches deep inside Yuuri, and Viktor smiles like he, too, is complete.

Spinning around, Yuuri looks Viktor in the eye – sees the laughter curving up those lips, watches those eyes follow his own, and feels powerful. Wanted. Loved. His smile widens in response, and Viktor’s hand curves around the divot in his waist. He doesn’t falter, but perhaps it’s because Viktor pulls him close.

“Got you,” he whispers, brushing a hand over Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri turns into the touch and – drunk on Viktor, daring in the first stage of insobriety – winds his fingers through Viktor’s hair to pull him in for a long kiss.

They don’t part, not until Yuuri’s lungs are bursting and Viktor is gasping against his lips. Peeling away from him gently, his lips red and slick, long silver hair spilling from its neat updo, Viktor curls his fingers into the thin material of Yuuri’s shirt. He’s breathing hard, gorgeous and undone, and Yuuri’s stomach lurches again – wanting.

“You’re so beautiful,” Viktor whispers, fingers skimming over the lean lines of Yuuri’s body. In response, Yuuri presses in closer, feels Viktor’s breath on his lips.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Yuuri asks, and his heart trips when Viktor nods a silent, fervent _yes_.

 

Shoving his way through the endless crowd, Yuuri half-wishes he has a beacon lit over where Viktor’s hand is clasped tightly around his. He’s pulling the most beautiful man in the world through the streets of New York City an hour before midnight, on the cusp of a beautiful new year. Their laughter crystalizes in the freezing winter air, a breath of warmth filling the empty space before them – a tangible thing for the inexplicable emptiness in his chest, the one he didn’t know he had.

Yuuri has to keep looking back, keep looking to make sure it’s— and _wow,_ yes it is, it’s Viktor staying as close to him as possible, his eyes lit up in delight at _him_ , at _Yuuri_.

It’s a heady feeling.

Clinging to each other, Yuuri laughing, Viktor beaming down at him, they stumble into an alley away from the crowds and Yuuri crowds close, pushing Viktor against the wall to kiss him gently, then with teeth, then like Viktor was the oxygen he needed to breathe. His lungs burn from the breathlessness of it all, but his heart has never beat like this, with such energy.

“Why don’t I remember you?” Yuuri wonders when they have to part for air, because Viktor feels like life to his soul, and Viktor laughs. He leans in, forehead resting on Yuuri’s, and the lights glimmer in his eyes like stars.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll always remember you,” Viktor tells him, the promise warm and heavy all at once. Yuuri shivers, winding his fingers through Viktor’s jacket, and looks to the sky.

“It’s snowing,” says Yuuri in surprise.

Viktor, blue eyes glittering with the gleam of streetlights and unshed tears, whispers, “Yes.”

 

The shitty apartment Yuuri shares with Phichit is cold, but Viktor seems not to care as they fumble with each other’s clothes. Yuuri kicks the door shut behind Viktor as his hands slide under Yuuri’s jacket, and he misses the light switch – something else goes clattering to the floor, and Viktor freezes at the sound but _fuck it._

“Don’t take your eyes off me,” Yuuri breathes against his lips, and imagines his words branding hot and possessive on Viktor’s mouth that every time he looks in the mirror he’d see, he’d remember, and—

They don’t make it to the bedroom. Yuuri tries, half out of his outfit, tugging Viktor back, but someone stumbles and suddenly they’re both in a tangled heap on the floor. Yuuri’s forehead smacks against Viktor’s cheekbone and Viktor’s elbow collides into the dilapidated couch on the way down, but nobody gets seriously hurt.

Laughter bubbles up in Yuuri’s throat, and he drops his head to Viktor’s shoulder, body shaking with the force of his mirth.

“Are you alright?” Viktor says in concern, resting a cool hand against Yuuri’s temple. “Dizzy?”

“No,” Yuuri promises, smiling up at him. “I just fell for you.”

He’s smiling at his own wit, and expects Viktor to chuckle to the tune of his own joy; instead, Viktor’s eyes widen, and his hands slide up along Yuuri’s spine. “ _Yuuri_ ,” he says, voice choking on a hitched breath, and he pulls Yuuri in for a desperate, bruising kiss. Viktor’s touch is cool against Yuuri’s heated skin, his breath warm and his mouth greedily swallowing the sounds he pulls from Yuuri’s lips. Yuuri pushes into the touch, pushes close, gasping, _“Viktor_.”

“I won’t,” Viktor hisses, tugging at Yuuri’s jeans as Yuuri fumbles for Viktor’s belt. “I’ll never look anywhere else.”

“Can I fuck you?” Yuuri asks Viktor’s collarbone, fingers around hot flesh, and Viktor’s hand tightens on Yuuri’s thighs with a low moan.

“Don’t stop,” he gasps.

They’re fire and ice and every touch is too much, too right, too everything. Like an addict Yuuri stays close, keeps coming back, keeps drawing Viktor in like Viktor is the only life worth living. Their bodies move in tandem, and Yuuri lets the feel of him, lets the quiet gasps and muffled groans carry him higher. Viktor’s hands – shaking and smoothing over the curves and panes of Yuuri’s body – slide up his sides reverently, like Yuuri might disappear at the end of it all.

“I’m here,” he mumbles as he drags his mouth across Viktor’s jaw. Outside, the city calls the countdown, the muffled screams bleeding through the thin apartment window. Viktor throws his head back, hair spilling down his spine and Yuuri slides his fingers through the silken strands. Viktor shudders around the tightening of Yuuri’s fingers against his scalp. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m—”

Viktor’s back arches like a bow, and the glittering lights from the fireworks catch in his eyes: a swirling blue galaxy of speckled stars.

 

As dawn breaks over the horizon, Yuuri is lying across Viktor’s body on his sad, creaking single bed that taps against the wall when they move. Viktor’s legs are wrapped around his waist, his hair spilling like a fan over Yuuri’s lumpy pillow, and Yuuri himself rocks slowly against him. The desperation from their earlier coupling has dulled to butterfly kisses and gentle touches, and the hum of Viktor’s pleasure swirling through Yuuri’s chest.

Viktor’s fingers curl loosely on Yuuri’s back, an unspoken request; Yuuri leans down to press their lips together – soft, openmouthed, without demand. With a little sigh, Viktor combs a hand through Yuuri’s hair once before settling back at its previous position.

He says, “I thought I’d lost you.”

When Yuuri meets his eyes, the lovely blue is clouded with the beginnings of tears that cling to silver lashes and threaten to spill. Yuuri kisses him again, rocking up, and Viktor’s breath hitches – from pleasure, or sadness, or something in between. He whispers into Yuuri’s mouth, a private confession that Yuuri feels more than he hears, “I thought I’d lost you forever.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” Yuuri tells him without understanding, even as he kisses away the stray tear that struggles free from Viktor’s beautiful eyes. “I never left.”

“Don’t leave me,” Viktor breathes. “Don’t ever leave me again.” His fingers curl tighter, and his heels dig into Yuuri’s back. His voice catches in his throat. “Don’t. Don’t ever.”

“I won’t,” Yuuri breathes, and the bed creaks, tapping insistently. “Never.”

“I love you,” Viktor chokes out. His fingernails rake lines into Yuuri’s back, and Yuuri shudders against him. “I love you, please, I just—”

“I’ll be here,” Yuuri promises, but the words are drowned out by the ringing in his ears and the sound of unreturned sentiment growing louder in the silence between them both.

 

Viktor is sleeping peacefully when Yuuri extricates himself from the other man’s embrace in the early light of day, slipping into sweatpants and a tee on his way out.

In the kitchen, Phichit flips casually through a magazine, looking up long enough to toss Yuuri a wink and a smirk before engrossing himself in whatever latest scandal Hollywood have gotten itself into. Ignoring him, Yuuri pulls a glass from the cabinets and pours himself some juice. He’s just taking a sip when Phichit finally speaks.

“Is he staying?”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri says, rubbing his temple. He admits, “I like him. He just feels right.”

“Let me know; if he is, I need to get myself some earplugs,” Phichit says conversationally, all the while flipping through his magazine. Yuuri chokes on his juice, putting the glass on the counter to avoid shattering it across the floor.

“I’m going out for a run,” he announces, grabbing a light jacket and a hat off the couch with a glance out at the snow-covered city. “If Viktor wants to stay, tell him he’s welcome to.”

“You’re only allowed to keep one stray at a time!” Phichit calls after him as he takes off out the door. Yuuri hopes his returned _fuck you_ , yelled through the door, doesn’t wake his guest.

He takes the stairs down to the lobby, and takes to the streets with a shudder, wishing he thought to bring a scarf to cover his mouth and nose as he darts over the freshly fallen snow. The city has been busy beyond the revels from the night before, salting the trampled ground to prevent ice, but Yuuri still picks his way through the deeper end to avoid slipping and falling.

Yet despite the biting cold and the threat of falling, Yuuri takes a moment to breathe in the sights and sounds of New York City at its laziest, dozy in a way that is rarely seen. A few cars trundle carefully along the road, and the pavements are empty but for the occasional hassled mother and aging father. Yuuri dodges them all with ease, watching the horizon break beautiful over the sky.

He makes it to the tiny deli that’s his halfway mark, and a flash of movement has Yuuri faltering at an alley. Something calls, beckons—

Breathing hard, Yuuri rubs his hands together as he steps down the dimly lit path.

“Hello?”

“Blessed one,” murmurs Death, unveiling himself from the shadows. Yuuri falters, and—

“You’ve come for me.”

The memories spill back like a broken reel, stuttering at images and flickering too fast: Viktor, his beloved, the demigod Viktor of Winter, and…

Falling in love across the seasons, with shared smiles and much laughter, forever keeping space between them. Viktor’s hand hovering over his cheek, the cold of him soothing in a way Winter never was. _I don’t know what to do when you cry. If I could kiss you…_

Tears turning to crystal as soon as they leave his eyes.

_I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t… I have to go. I can’t lose you._

Viktor in pain.

Hovering over the ground with Death’s hands around him, tiny cracks racing down his beautiful face and— A bargain with Death for the one thing he wanted more than anything in the world: for Viktor to live.

“Yes,” Death says, softly. “Are you ready to come home?”

 

The deli is his halfway mark, and Yuuri, jogging along, hears his name called from behind: Viktor. Causing quite a scene, judging by the shocked-looking elderly lady standing across the street from them. Slowing, Yuuri turns. Viktor is racing after him, unheeding of the ice and snow beneath his feet.

“Yuuri!”

Rubbing his arms, Yuuri jogs in place to keep warm, looking around at the near-empty streets, the freshly fallen snow, and the alley next to the deli. Hadn’t he just been—

“Stay where you are!” Viktor orders, but Yuuri, pulled by an inexplicable need, drifts closer, to the edge of the pavement—

Viktor starts to jog across the road, but _doesn’t he see_ —

“Viktor look out!”

His feet move faster than his voice or the blaring horn, and Viktor is a solid warmth against the palms of his hands for one perfect, heart-stopping moment; the look of shock on his face is like a flash of guilt, and Yuuri has an apology on his lips but—

Tires screech on black ice and—

 _Yuuri_ – his name, screamed in panic—

But by that time he’s already—

 

 

_Pain ohgod it_ hurt _—_

 

 

 

When he was very young, Yuuri wandered into the ocean and got himself all cut up on the coral. The rawness of the wounds in the salty water burned like hell, his mother had screamed, and he’d spent the day in the hospital, sobbing his eyes out from the pain of it all.

The brink of death feels like his entire body is wound with raw edges, thrown into the deepest end of the ocean with a weight around his ankle to drag him down into the salty depths. It feels like being ripped apart without a tool to put him back together. It feels worse than all of that – but somehow, it feels like home with Viktor curling around him, a blurry but comforting shape so near.

Painfully, Yuuri raises his eyes at the stormy sky threatening snow. It hurt to breathe.

Viktor’s humming into his chest, a broken little ditty Yuuri thinks he recognizes from some old commercial; there’s a desperate edge to his voice, trembling with the threat of tears, and Yuuri takes a moment to try and turn to the source. Viktor’s voice breaks, and he starts over. And over.

“Viktor,” he mumbles.

The humming stops.

“I’m here, my love,” Viktor whispers after a moment. His face swims into Yuuri’s vision, fuzzy like maybe he hit his head on the way down. Yuuri briefly wants the blurriness to clear, to see Viktor in full glory and not just his eyes – the color of the clouds, now, with a bolt of grief flashing like lightning through the shades of grey. Viktor smooths a hand gently over his cheek, his jaw, his lips. “I know, shh. The ambulance is on its way, just save your strength. I’ll be right here.” Yuuri closes his eyes briefly, then forces them open again. Viktor smiles down at him, his lip trembling with the strain of pretense. One of his hands curves over Yuuri’s forehead, smoothing his hair back gently. He picks up a different tune this time. A classical.

One of Yuuri’s favorites.

“I can’t see, Viktor,” Yuuri tells him matter-of-factly. Snow is white. The sky is grey. His sight is blurry. He can barely make out the shape of Viktor by his side, stunning even in his own grief. “Am I going to die?”

Silence; the classic falters, slows.

“No, my love.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I love you,” Viktor says quietly. “Not a lie.”

Yuuri laughs, something ugly twisting inside of him – like _want_ like _could’ve had_ and _why now_ , then cuts himself off. Laughing hurt. “You barely know me.”

The hand smooths his hair back again, playing with the strands. “I’ve known you for years,” Viktor murmurs. “Decades. Centuries. I’ve known you since you were born. I’ve loved you for longer than that.”

“Don’t be daft,” Yuuri tells him, but his voice is weak. “I wish we had more time to know each other better. I like you, even if you’re a bit strange. I really like you.” _You feel like completion._

Viktor smiles, lost and sad. “I wish we did, too.”

A siren sounds in the distance. “They won’t let you on the ambulance, will they?” Yuuri murmurs. “I don’t have any family. Can you say you’re my family? I don’t want to die alone.”

“You’re never alone.”

“I felt alone. Until I was with you. Then I wasn’t.”

“I always feel the same way.”

Yuuri’s eyelids are heavy. When did it get so hard to stay awake? He tries, but his eyelids won’t obey and oh, _sleep_ beckons so prettily, and he just wants to…

“Yuuri? Yuuri?” A hand grips his. He sounds familiar. Yuuri rouses himself with a low grumble. “Yuuri, stay awake, please, my Yuuri. My beautiful Yuuri.”

His lips move. “Beloved?”

“Yes,” Viktor breathes. “Yes, don’t leave me again, I love you.”

“He got me again.”

“I know. I know, my Yuuri.”

Yuuri forces his eyes open. Everything’s dark, but the mint-bright of Viktor’s hair is visible in any light. “You’ll find me again, won’t you?”

There’s a wet laugh against his wrist, and Viktor says, muffled, “I want to. God, I want to find you every life. I want to love you forever.”

“I love you,” Yuuri mumbles. An ocean draws him down with a gentle tug, drowning out the sounds from the waking city. “See you soon.”

“I—”

 

New York City sleeps on, unassuming and unaware that in the heart of its city, a heart has broken once again. Death watches quietly as Viktor curls over the body of the beautiful young man and begins to weep. Bowing his head briefly, he turns and slips away to vanish into the shadows.

From the sky, thick snowflakes begin to fall.

**Author's Note:**

> Getting into the holiday spirit with angst nbd
> 
> Sorry Sach orz
> 
>  
> 
> Snippets that I couldn’t fit in anywhere:
> 
> “You’ve got something on your cheek,” says Viktor, studying him with the same intensity as earlier. Blushing, Yuuri’s hand slaps over the stain from Phichit’s lipstick.  
> “My friend,” he explains awkwardly. “He’s very affectionate.”  
> “You’re inspirational,” Viktor murmurs, chin in his hand. There’s something impossibly soft in his eyes and Yuuri finds himself flushing under the scrutiny.  
> “Well, you’re beautiful,” he blurts, and because the universe hates when he’s having fun, the words balloon through the air during a lull in sound. Several people turn to look at him, big smiles on their mouths, as Viktor laughs – bright, brilliant, beautiful and god Yuuri wants him. 
> 
> “I just…” Yuuri, his cheeks pinked, turns his face into Viktor’s palm. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”  
> “Tell me,” Viktor says encouragingly, smoothing his thumb over his fiancé’s cheek. Yuuri’s huff is a warm burst of air down his wrist. “Come on, Yuurochka,” he says with a laugh, pressing a kiss to his hair, his temple, any part of Yuuri he can reach. “I promise I won’t laugh at you.”  
> “It just,” Yuuri says, muffled into his hand, “It just feels like we were… you know.”  
> “We were what?”  
> “Meanttobe,” Yuuri says in a rush, turning red all the way down his neck to Viktor’s delight. “We were, um, meant to be. Together.”  
> Viktor can’t help it – he laughs, but only because the joy bubbling from his chest is uncontainable. He laughs and pulls Yuuri into his arms for a tight hug to Yuuri’s half-hearted protest and mumbled, you said you wouldn’t laugh. “Yuuri,” Viktor says, running his hands up Yuuri’s back, incapable of restraining his smile even if he wanted to. Yuuri looks down at him, glasses slightly askew, both hands propped on either side of Viktor’s head, the remnants of the blush dusting his nose. “Yuuri, of course.”  
> “We are?” Yuuri says, startled, as though he hadn’t expected it. A contemplative look slides into his eyes, which flick down towards Viktor’s lips when he smiles impossibly wider.  
> “We are,” Viktor promises.
> 
>  
> 
> They’re fucking slowly on the floor when Phichit walks in, drunk and not alone.  
> “Shit,” Yuuri curses, scrambling to over himself and Viktor up. Viktor, out of breath and pink in the face, sits up with a faint wince before wriggling his fingers at Phichit.  
> “Damn, Yuuri,” Phichit says. “Get a room.”  
> “Or join us,” his companion says with a salacious grin, running his eyes over Yuuri’s ass and Viktor’s dick. Flushing, Yuuri tries to cover himself up better. “You’re both welcome.”  
> “Room,” Yuuri says, and all but drags Viktor into his bedroom behind him to the sound of laughter.


End file.
